


Luminous Beings

by kataurah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi Marcus, Romance, Slow Burn, re-post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 09:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19885360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: The Republic has fallen. Chancellor - now Emperor - Palpatine had been playing both sides of the war and no one but Jacob Griffin had seen it until it was too late. Now Jake is dead, and the family he left behind are fleeing from the new Galactic Empire with what seems to be the only Jedi who survived the purge of Order 66. Without a plan or a safe place for them to hide, Abby Griffin struggles with her fear for her daughter, and with embracing her Force sensitivity for the first time in her life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of a Kabby fic that was previously on here. I very much love this AU I've created and I hope to continue it in the future. Hope you all still enjoy, and that it distracts from canon related depression.

Abby feels as though she's been standing, frozen, in this med bay for days.

Around her, the hum of _The Iliad's_ engines, the beeping of the life support system, and the gentle bubble of the bacta tank are steady, familiar, even as a hurricane of emotion rages within her. She tries to focus on the only thing keeping her standing: the connection that flows through the Force between her and the unconscious man in front of her.

Marcus' wounds had been extensive, whole chunks of flesh from his thigh and his upper left arm burnt away by a lightsaber blade she knows belonged to his apprentice, the sister of the boy currently piloting the ship as they run, fly, flee to the outer rim in the hopes of hiding from the new Galactic Empire...

Abby shudders at the thought, their new realty. How did it come to this? Jake had known; he'd figured it out long before anyone else had raised suspicions, but by then he was months dead and it was far too late. Palpatine had pulled the wool over the senate's eyes, had positioned his pieces carefully throughout a galaxy wide chess board, playing both sides, and the instatement of his regime of power had been met with no resistance. Everyone had been too distracted by the war, as he'd planned, to notice the foundations of the Republic crumbling beneath them.

All that Abby has left in the galaxy is on board this ship.

She hadn't stopped to consider where they might go, how they might survive if they could even get off-world; upon hearing about Order 66, Abby had just grabbed Clarke and ran, willingly reaching out with the Force for the first time in her life, desperate to find the Jedi knight she now realised she couldn't bear to lose. She'd wanted to hate Marcus, to blame him and the Jedi council for not protecting Jake, rather than blame Jake himself for not being more careful. She'd cut off all contact with him after Jake's funeral and told herself she didn't miss his support and gentle guidance. His unexpected warmth and humour that she'd never encountered in any other Jedi before.

He floats in front of her now, suspended in the bacta fluid as it regrows damaged tissue, bared and vulnerable in a way she hasn't ever seen him, skin and muscles that have always been covered by his traditional robes. Abby stares, drinks him in with her eyes, too relieved to have him still with her - alive and breathing if not conscious - to feel ashamed. She can feel him in her mind, though, his presence both familiar and strange at the same time; distant yet closer than he's ever been, than she's ever allowed him to be.

Despite his attempts to get her to embrace her Force sensitivity in the past, she'd been too afraid to open herself up to it fully, nor to let him in for him to help her. There had been no conscious thought to this though; in her fear and need to find him alive, she'd reached out instinctively, with emotion and unrefined strength.

Now she can't turn it off. She isn't even sure that she wants to.

In his weakened state, his essence, his light, is like a flickering candle inside her: barely there but a comfort in the darkness and confusion in which she's found herself. And so she clings to that connection, as if she might pull him back to her. Hell, given that she's gone her entire life suppressing her abilities and having as little practical knowledge about the nature of the Force as possible, that might even be a thing she can do...

No sooner does she think it, she feels Marcus jumpstart to life like a spark in her mind, and seconds later his eyes fly open. Pain, fear and confusion radiate from him as he struggles to make sense of his surroundings, blinking rapidly against the liquid in his eyes, hands flying to the oxygen mask covering his mouth.

"Marcus!" He won't be able to hear her audibly, but as Abby rushes forward to press her hand up to the glass, she hopes he can feel and hear her through the Force, "Marcus, I'm here. You're okay."

He stills, eyes widening unseeingly, brow furrowing as he processes her presence in his mind. She can't blame him for being surprised or shocked, they haven't seen each other or spoken in months, and the last time they did she told him to stay away from her and Clarke. Regret and sorrow threaten to rise up but Abby, even though she has no idea what she's doing, tries instead to convey in her thoughts that he is safe. She closes her eyes and imagines holding him, suffuses the image with comfort, reassurance and, yes, love, and wills it from her mind to his. She hopes, after everything, that he doesn't consider this an intrusion.

_Abby_...

His voice echoes in her head, low and gentle as always, and when she opens her eyes again, he is holding his hand up to hers, palm to palm through the glass. Her heart swells, emotion clogging her throat, and she feels an answering surge of warmth from Marcus. It washes over her, and for a moment they are calm.

Then Marcus, seeking answers, reaches out further, and everything shatters. Quite literally.

Abby knows for sure that the Jedi are gone, that Marcus has encountered the devastating void of their absence, when pain and grief rips through him so strongly that she ends up staggering and crying out. A wordless, soundless, agonising scream of denial rings in her head and brings tears to her eyes, but she backs away further, knowing, just a split-second before, what is about to happen.

The tank cracks, explodes from the point where Marcus had still been touching it, and Abby shields herself only for a moment to avoid the shards of glass, then throws herself against the tide of fluid rushing out, soaking her clothes, in order to attempt to catch him before he hits the ground. She's only marginally successful: he's heavy, a deadweight, and she is small, and the bacta liquid makes everything slippery. His skin is slick with it and she can't grip him properly, even as she insinuates herself between his arm and his body, struggling to hold him up. All she manages to do is slightly slow his descent whilst falling with him, though she does keep him away from the glass littering the med bay floor.

Marcus is fighting the breathing mask again, his chest heaving, making aborted sobbing noises in his throat that make Abby's heart break. She detaches the mask for him, pulling it away, and moves to hold his face in her hands as he gulps in air.

"Marcus..." But she doesn't know what to say, not really. She lost a piece of herself when Jake died, for a while she'd thought the pain unbearable, but she can only imagine what it must feel like for Marcus to have lost the entirety of his people all at once. Brothers, sisters, friends, mentors... After living almost his entire life aware of their presence in the back of his mind, to have them suddenly be silent.

He opens his eyes that had previously been screwed shut - brown and soulful and despairing - and meets her gaze, reaching for her in return with shaking arms, his body weak and muscles only just waking up.

"Abby... " She's never heard his voice like this: rough and raw and broken, "They're gone. I can't... I can't feel any of them."

"I'm sorry." Her own voice catches as she feels his grief mingle with her own pain and sadness that he should have to go through this. She strokes his cheek, the damp bristles of his beard, his neck, aching to comfort, "I'm so sorry, Marcus."

He sucks in another breath, eyes wide again and horrified, "Octavia... she -" He cuts himself off with a choked off sob, closing his eyes and starting to withdraw; Abby won't allow it.

She draws him, trembling with cold and emotion now, his bare skin clammy beneath her touch, into her arms, runs her fingers through his damp, messy hair, and Marcus falls into her, turning his face into the crook of her neck. He doesn't hold her back though, not until she starts whispering, "I'm here" over and over again, because she can feel it, the loneliness and the selfrecrimination rising like a tide and threatening to overwhelm him. Then he clutches at her tightly, like she's the only thing keeping him from drowning.

"I tried," He hears him start to murmur after he has cried silently for a while, "I couldn't reach her. I tried."

Abby has tear tracks on her own face and she presses a kiss into the soft, drying curls beneath her cheek, "I know you did."

She doesn't know exactly what happened, because Bellamy has yet to talk about it, remaining pale and grim when Clarke, with whom he seemed to have struck up some kind of rapport, tentatively questioned him, jaw clenched in silence. And when she and Clarke found him struggling with an injured Marcus outside the burning Jedi temple, Octavia was already gone.

Marcus, whether he remembered it or not, had collapsed against her, bleeding and burned, and had stared back into the flames, the ashes of his entire life.

"She's fallen to the dark," He'd whispered hoarsely, as Bellamy made a noise of suppressed pain next to him. From that Abby could only draw the conclusion that Octavia was somehow at least partly responsible for the state they'd found him in. That her absence did not mean she was just another dead Jedi, lost in the purge.

Against her neck, Marcus takes a few deep, steadying breaths, willing himself to calm. By habit, she thinks, for surely spiralling into such an emotional tailspin was against everything the Jedi had taught him. Then Abby thinks: does the Jedi rule book even apply anyone when Marcus is all that's left? She feels him flinch a little, as if he'd heard her thoughts, but when he lifts his head and pulls back just enough that he isn't slumped into her quite as much, his face is just tired, resigned... and yet a flicker of wonderment passes through his dark, brown eyes as they regard her.

"I can't feel them," He says again, "Not even Master Yoda. But I can feel you." Abby doesn't say anything, but nods to confirm his unspoken question. "It's like there's nothing but darkness," He continues, and she hates how matter of fact his statement already sounds, "But... I can feel your light."

She cannot help her flush of pleased warmth at that; nor does it escape her that she'd had the same thought about him just a short while ago. They simply stare at each other for a moment, taking each other in, basking in the flow of the Force back and forth between them. Abby knows she already cherishes this tether, and the time where she might have tried closing herself off again is past.

It's incredibly intimate, holding on to each other in this way, with their very beings, but... pure. Until Marcus self consciously crosses his arms over his chest and draws her attention once more to his almost complete nudity. The heat thrumming under her skin transforms into something else, something she is far more familiar with. Abby is not in the habit of being in denial about her own feelings, she knows her own mind too well. She knows she's felt a spark of attraction for Marcus, fixed in with her fondness and sometimes frustration with the man, for years. But it was inconsequential: she was married and loved her husband, and he was - _is_ \- a Jedi. As such it was easy to dismiss, to conceal.

But now... surely he can sense the uncontrollable flare of want within her? _This_ is the first time Abby feels any kind of regret for their new connection: she doesn't want to make Marcus uncomfortable. But instead of moving away from her, deflecting her attention or any of the other reactions Abby expected, he continues to regard her with a new intensity that makes Abby's breath catch and her heart stutter. Surely he doesn't...?

She is the one who looks away, deciding to switch her focus to his medical needs.

"Let me get you some clothes. Something to eat and drink."

Marcus just gives her a small smile of gratitude that does not dispel the sadness in his eyes.

Bellamy keeps two small guest quarters on his ship (more storage cupboards with bunks than anything, but a place for Marcus and Octavia to sleep should they need it) and this is where Abby gets him settled with strict instructions to rest, after she's raided Bellamy's closet for clothes and given Marcus some privacy to clean himself up.

She sits on the small mattress next to him now and watches him eat - oatmeal and water, bland so as not to upset his stomach after days in the bacta tank - and feels the knot of tension she's been carrying in her chest ease a little. Maybe it's expecting too much of him, he's lost more than she, and it's all still fresh and raw, but he's always been a great source of support and guidance in her life. Just his being awake makes her feel less alone and terrified in wondering what the hell they're supposed to do now. They can't run forever.

Marcus finishes his meagre meal and set his tray aside with a sigh, clearly exhausted already.

"Clarke and Bellamy are here." He says, before Abby can tell him to get some sleep. The soft smile on his face tells her he's taking comfort in feeling their presence nearby and it makes Abby's chest tighten, her eyes prickle with the threat of more tears. She nods even though he doesn't need the confirmation.

She hadn't meant to bring it up, not so soon, but Marcus' obvious display of fondness for the young people in their care, and fear for Clarke's wellbeing, makes the words spill out, quiet and wavering:

"Marcus... What do we do?"

He turns that tenderness on her, reaching out to take her hand, and it suddenly strikes her how strange it is to see him in civilian clothes. He always looks so put together, but now he sits in simple black cargo pants and a faded grey shirt that's seen better days, his hair falling in messy waves, unbound, around his face and neck.

"I don't believe that we're alone." He says, then, off her frown, "I don't mean the Jedi," He swallows, clearly forcing down the pain it causes him. "I mean we can't be the only ones left who oppose the Empire."

Abby has had similar thoughts: she couldn't imagine the people who had been closest to Jake in the Senate simply allowing Palpatine's take over. Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, Padme Amidala... But their voices were but a few fighting against the tide of overwhelming approval for the Galactic Empire. Either they had fled Coruscant like Abby and the people with her, or they were dead.

"I... I figured the further we got from the core planets the better chance we might have at hiding."

"It was the right call." Marcus smiles and squeezes her hand reassuringly, "The regime won't have fully taken hold yet, everything is in upheaval, and the Republic has never had a tight reign on the outer rim either." Whether he notices himself talking about the Republic in the present tense, Abby doesn't know, but she doesn't try and correct him. "We have allies out there going to ground just like us. We just have to find them."

He says it as though it will be easy, searching the entire galaxy for people who don't want to be found, whilst avoiding detection themselves, but Abby dearly wants to have faith in his conviction right now. So she smiles back at him, even though she knows it's weak and anxiety still jumps beneath her skin.

"Wherever we end up," Marcus brings his free hand to touch her cheek, featherlight, "we're in this together, okay?"

_That_ was what she needed to hear.

"Okay," She breathes, covering his hand and holding it there against her cheek for a moment, before settling it down next to their other pair of joined hands in her lap. She thinks maybe she can sleep now, since she can't actually remember the last time she did.

She needs to check in with her daughter and Bellamy though, update them on Marcus' recovery, find out if any other ships have been on their radar and how much fuel remains.

"Go and sleep, Abby." Marcus murmurs. It shouldn't feel like a dismissal, she doesn't have the right to stay here and watch over him whilst he sleeps. Hold him...

"Right." She pulls herself away, getting to her feet, the exhaustion weighing her limbs down apparent now. "You too. If you need me I'm in - " _Octavia's room_ , she manages to stop herself from saying, "The other guest cabin."

Her last sight of him as she takes her leave is him slowly, gingerly, lowering himself onto the mattress, and as she closes the door, the thing that she had pushed to the back of her mind comes flooding back:

Sitting there in medical, locked into each other's gaze with her feelings and desires flowing openly, uncontrollably into the Force...

She swears she felt a flicker of _something_ in return.


	2. Chapter 2

Abby dreams of fire and grief.

The Jedi temple, the Senate, all of Coruscant is burning, a raging inferno of destruction sweeping across the galaxy. She sees the fleeting faces of friends and strangers alike, in pain, dying. She sees the face of a young girl she knows somehow is Octavia Blake, though she hasn't seen the girl in person in several years. Her face is a twisted mask of hatred and hurt, tears streaming down her cheeks even as she spits vitriol in Abby's direction; her words echo, too indistinct for Abby to make them out. She _feels_ them though. The pain that erupts in her chest as they hit their mark.

There is the flash and hum of two lightsabers, crackling as they clash again and again. The searing agony of a blade slicing, burning through flesh. A cry that is not her own. Then the images become a barrage, assaulting her mind with increasing speed and confusion: clone troopers in battle, the lights of hundreds of Jedi, like stars in the sky, extinguished, Jake desperately trying to make her understand, Sheev Palpatine laughing, his face melted and grotesque, shooting lightning impossibly from his hands... And another young Jedi lost to darkness.

Abby sees Anakin Skywalker, respected Jedi knight and famed hero of the Clone Wars, shrouded in a dark cloak, Sith-yellow eyes glaring out beneath his hood, down at frightened young Jedi - _children_ \- looking to him for help and guidance. He ignites his lightsaber and this time it is Abby herself who cries out in anguish and horror as she witnesses him commit unimaginable atrocities. He cuts them down without hesitation or mercy and, oh god, she wants to look away, to make it stop, but it's playing like a holofilm in her mind's eye and bile is rising like acid in her throat and -

_Clarke could so easily have been there._

Consciousness has her crashing back into her body as Abby propels herself over the side of the bunk and is sick on the floor.

"Mom!" On her other side Clarke is awake and frantic with worry, hands flitting over Abby's back and shoulders, gathering her hair away from her face for her. "Mom, what is it? What's wrong?"

Abby is breathless and sobbing and knows for certain that she'd already been crying before she'd woken. She keeps heaving even though there was very little in her stomach to begin with, trying in vain to blink away the graphic images now imprinted on her mind. They don't belong to her, these memories, these _visions_ , and this is the kind of thing that she's always been afraid of: seeing things through the Force that she'd never, ever want to see. Clarke is still talking, spooning up behind her and doing her best to hold her as Abby trembles and cries, trapped and overwhelmed by her own mind.

She remembers Octavia and Jake and suddenly she _knows_ : this was a shared Force-dream...

"Abby!"

As though summoned, Marcus' hoarse shout echoes down the corridor and breaks through the fog of grief enough to jolt her into movement. Clarke lets go of her easily enough, though not without a noise of concern as Abby stumbles to her feet, uncaring that she wears only a tank top and boxer briefs, drawn inexorably forward by the cord of energy that feels as though it's tied tight under her ribs.

The metal flooring is cold beneath her bare feet as Abby hurries out of their room, and she only gets a glimpse of Marcus' face - drawn, haunted, horrified, a mirror of everything she's feeling - before they crash into each other, arms holding, clutching, so tightly that Abby doubts either of them can breathe. She doesn't care; she grabs a fistful of his threadbare shirt in one hand and threads the other into his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and they cry together.

"I saw... I saw everything," Abby chokes, unable to find the words to express the terror, the darkness that seems inescapable, swallowing everything like a black hole. "I _felt_..."

"Evil," Says Marcus, next to her ear; he squeezes her, hand spanning the dip of her waist and fingers grazing the sliver of skin at her hip, as they both stand there shaking. "It's evil. Spreading everywhere. Like a plague." He breathes a shuddering sigh that seems to wrack his whole frame and Abby stretches further up onto her tiptoes to press closer, if possible. "How could Anakin - ?"

Marcus' arms cannot banish the memory of what Anakin Skywalker had done, no more than Abby can control the sob that escapes at the thought of it. Marcus draws back enough to cradle her face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Abby." He's pale, eyes red-rimmed and wet, "I'm so sorry that you saw that."

Abby looks into those eyes - pained, warm, familiar - and tries to shut everything else out but him. Her hands have come to rest on his chest, unconsciously seeking out his heartbeat; her fingers dig into the muscle a little as she touches him, not hard enough to hurt, but just so she can imagine healing all the cracks and wounds in his heart, through the Force or through the sheer strength of her love.

"This is exactly what I didn't want," She whispers, "I didn't want this power, Marcus. I'm not like you, I can't control this, _or_ myself."

"This is my fault -"

"No!" She interrupts him before he can spiral into self-blame, "I started this, I brought it on myself. But Marcus... " She breaks eye contact, unable to look at him whilst she confesses, "You've always said fear is the path to the dark side. I'm afraid _all_ the time. I'm afraid of losing Clarke, of losing you -"

"You won't. I won't let that happen."

"Neither will I, that's what I'm saying, I..." Marcus' fingers are gentle under her chin, tilting her face up so that she cannot escape his gaze. His face is open, tender, as if he already knows what she's about to say. "I would do _anything_ to save you both. Anything. Using the Force, Marcus, it would be so easy for me to fall..."

He's already shaking his head, "Then I'll catch you." He says firmly, "If this is what I think it is... We have a Force-bond -"

"You do?" Clarke's voice cuts through the intensity building between them, even as the term _Force-bond_ has Abby stunned, reverberating inside her head.

Her daughter looks between them frowning, and she wonders if Clarke had followed her out of the room and has been watching them this entire time. She doesn't know how she feels about that; their conversation can't have made much sense to her, but for all Clarke knew before now, she and Marcus haven't spoken for nearly a year and now suddenly they're clinging to each other, half dressed and crying for seemingly no reason.

Abby finds it hard to step out of his arms - being held by him feels right, like the completion of a circuit, and makes her feel safer than she has since before Jake died - so she takes one of his hands in hers when she turns to look at her daughter. Clarke doesn't miss this, eyes flickering down and back up again, and she raises an eyebrow in waiting an explanation.

"Clarke..." Abby finds she doesn't have one. At least not one that she can put into words.

"When your mother used the Force to find me," Marcus speaks up instead, "And then, consciously or not, used it to help heal me, to keep me alive, she tethered her being to mine."

So it _was_ entirely her fault; Abby feels her veins suddenly turn to ice and drops his hand. "You mean I forced this on you."

At the same time, Clarke says, " _You_ used the Force? After all the times you flat out refused to let me go to the temple for testing?"

Abby steps towards her and tries to touch her, but Clarke moves quickly out of reach. She swallows around the tightness in her throat, "I didn't know what else to do."

Silence reigns for a moment; Abby senses that Marcus has more to say, but is quiet to keep from intruding on the loaded discussion between mother and daughter. As such, they all jump when the comms crackle to life and Bellamy's static-filled voice breaks the tension.

"If you're all still asleep you need to get your asses out of bed. If we put off refuelling any longer we're gonna be dead in the air."

Clarke jumps at the opportunity to escape and starts off down the corridor towards the cockpit without a backwards glance, leaving Abby and Marcus alone.

"I should get dressed," Abby mumbles, making to return to the room until Marcus catches her arm.

"Abby, wait." He's inside her personal space again, his fingertips warm and tingling on her bare skin, "You forged this bond, it's true, but... I welcome it." Her doubt and guilt must show on her face because he presses on in earnest. "I do. You saved my life, and I think..." He takes a deep breath, "It feels like you're a part of me now, I've never felt so in synch with another person, not even my own master. And I know it's frightening," His touch travels down to entwine their hands together once more, "I know. But if I couldn't feel you so close, if I didn't have you in my mind, I think I'd have gone insane in the silence."

His honesty takes her breath away for a moment and once again she feels overwhelmed; she feels as though she's fumbling blind through the chaos both within and without. She doesn't know how to control this - her new connection to the Force or to Marcus - and she still feels drained and shaken to the core by the dream. God only knows what Clarke is thinking, other than her clear implication that Abby is a hypocrite.

And Marcus expects her to be his anchor.

But then, she thinks, he is hers too. This bond feels like symbiosis, like balance; when her strength fails, Marcus will hold her up, and visa versa.

So she offers him a smile, small but genuine, and squeezes his hand.

"I know I said that I didn't want..." She starts, struggling, "But you know I didn't mean... I don't mean this. Our... our bond."

It feels all at once strange and right to say it out loud, and Marcus seems to breathe a sigh of relief, "I know."

* * *

Kwenn Space Station is the last reliable refuelling station before one crosses into the less civilised territory of the outer rim, or so Bellamy and Marcus had insisted. Despite its size - three tiers and plenty of docking bays to accommodate small single man fighters to large freighters - and the crowds bustling through the poorly lit spaces, Abby still feels as though she has a target painted on her back. She's sure if she were Marcus she would feel even more paranoid, but she senses no nervousness coming from him. In fact, she doesn't sense him all that much at all, even though physically he is weaving his way through the crowd just ahead of her, and reaches out with the Force without thinking, seeking the comfort and security of his presence.

She sees him tense and glance behind at her, before wrapping a hand around her elbow and drawing her level with him.

"Don't do that," His voice is low in her ear, and _now_ he seems worried. "I'm cloaking myself as best I can, but we have no idea how many Sith may have come out of the woodwork in support of Palpatine. If there are any here, they could sense us."

"I'm sorry," Abby mutters, embarrassed.

"It's alright," His thumb sweeps back and forth through her thin cotton shirt, "I understand the need." _To keep you close_ , is what he doesn't say but she hears nonetheless, to feel that direct flow of the Force between them. "I brought my lightsaber, though," He murmurs, distractedly, "A Jedi or a Sith could sense the kyber crystal..."

"We need to keep moving," Bellamy interrupts intently, he and Clarke having noticed that they've stopped following behind. "In and out asap, that's what we said."

Fuel and supplies are what they're after; _The Iliad_ is being refuelled as they speak, though Bellamy had cast distrustful looks at the service droids.

"More Force-bond stuff?" Clarke says sardonically, and Abby bites down the urge to tell her to stop acting like a child.

"Clarke, now is not the time for this." Thankfully, it's Bellamy who says this, since, out of the three of them, he is currently the one Clarke is most likely to listen to. He turns to Marcus, "This will go quicker if I get the parts and food we need on my own. I know my way around."

"Bellamy, we shouldn't split up -"

"I'll be fine." He smirks, "I blend in here far better than any of you."

As conspicuous as she feels, Abby can't help but agree with him, watching him walk away with an easy swagger, all mussed up charm, hand hovering near his blaster at his hip in a way that appears casual. Really, he's the one who has gotten them this far; they need to trust his judgement.

She and Clarke, with a seemingly unspoken agreement to focus on their task, concern themselves with medical supplies - since they're running low after the small explosion that had occurred in their med bay - whilst Marcus hovers a little further back, surreptitiously scanning the crowd. He worries for their safety, Abby knows, more than his own; he searches for a glimpse of Bellamy returning unharmed.

With a practised eye, Abby quickly selects the items she imagines they'll need most, wondering how much longer their Galactic credits will be of any use, whether or not they'll be able to exchange currency on whatever world they end up on.

"I'm sorry," Clarke says suddenly, not looking directly at her but continuing to browse the stall, "I know I've been... difficult." She sighs, turning to Abby properly and dropping her voice, "It's just that my whole life, you were so against either of us using our abilities. Or learning to use them." Abby thinks once more of all those young apprentices cut down by Skywalker at the temple, all the Jedi taken out by the Empire: of course she doesn't regret not sending Clarke there, but Clarke has not been privy to any of this. "And then, when dad..." Clarke continues, "You blamed the Jedi. You blamed Master Kane and cut him out of our lives. And now suddenly..."

"I know," Abby says, "I just... I couldn't lose anyone else. Everything was falling apart, and when I heard about the order..." She glances behind her at Marcus then back to Clarke, who is listening closely. "They were killing them all, Clarke, and all I could think was that I couldn't lose my friend."

"Your friend." Clarke repeats in a slightly disbelieving tone. "Mom, what I saw last night -"

"That wasn't -" Abby struggles to explain, "We shared a nightmare. A vision. I don't know. But Marcus is a Jedi, Clarke, it's not like that between us." Regardless of her own feelings, she does not say.

Clarke still looks skeptical, but a sudden rise in noise and commotion puts an abrupt end to their conversation. Ahead of them, the crowd swells, people descending into panicked chaos as they move away from some unseen threat. Heart pounding, Abby grabs Clarke's hand before they are engulfed and pulled apart, then Bellamy emerges from the crowd, appearing next to them with wide eyes.

"We gotta go," He says urgently, hoisting his pack, full of supplies, more securely over his shoulder, "There are clone troops here and they're shutting down traffic. If we don't leave now, we'll be trapped here."

Cold dread twists Abby's stomach into knots as Clarke's hold on her hand tightens and she begins pulling her towards where they left _The Iliad._

_Marcus_.

"Where's Marcus?" She twists this way and that, desperately trying to find him amongst the surging crowd; she's not tall enough to see over their heads.

What if he'd been caught? Arrested, or worse? He hadn't been stood all that far away from them, surely they would have heard...? Abby reaches out with her mind, fear and desperation once more overruling caution, and follows that cord of energy rooted in the centre of her being. She doesn't have to fight the tide at least, though she ends up weaving further into the middle of the crowd, tugging Clarke and Bellamy along with her. Then she feels Marcus meeting her halfway, a gentle warmth suffusing her body, guiding her forwards until she practically walks into his arms. He steadies her, looking down at her in equal parts relief and worry - _I'm here, I've got you_ , she hears startlingly clear in her head - then reaches out to briefly touch Bellamy too.

"Clones," is all Bellamy says, and Marcus nods, jaw clenching. He takes Abby's hand, and together they all form a chain and shuffle as fast as they can in the direction of their ship.

There are so many people rushing to do the same thing as them, to take off before they are locked down, that it almost gives Abby hope despite the fear coursing through her veins; they are not the only ones running. _The Iliad_ is still there, looking the same as she did when they left, and the four of them break into a run as soon as they're free of the throng. Bellamy punches in the lock code, and the entry ramp lowers. Far too slowly.

Once they're inside the cockpit, trying to catch their breath, Bellamy throws himself into the pilot's seat and the ship's engines hum to life beneath them. Somewhere outside an alarm begins to blare, but no one is paying heed to it or bothering with flight clearance anymore.

"Abby..." Marcus is still holding her hand and draws her to one of the battered leather seats bolted to the floor of the tiny room, "Here, sit."

He stands behind her then, their joined hands resting on her shoulder as they watch Clarke slide surely into the co-pilot's seat and Bellamy expertly manoeuvre his way past other escaping space crafts. Then they're away, gaining speed, and Abby can finally breathe.

It had been far too close; there's no way they can outrun them forever. Abby wonders if they can even make it another week. She closes her eyes, fighting the panic still coiling in the pit of her stomach, and focuses with everything she has on her anchor. The Force pulses between them, living, tangible, and she feels as much as hears Marcus gasp softly.

"We're fucked," says Clarke abruptly, and Abby can't help but agree.

"No," Bellamy replies, and Abby opens her eyes to see him entering coordinates into the hyperdrive's navigation system. "Not yet."

"Where are we going?" Marcus asks above her head.

"I'm sure you noticed there were a lot of other people back there keen on avoiding the Empire." Bellamy says, continuing to prepare _The Iliad_ for the jump to lightspeed. "When I was alone I was less conspicuous, like I said, I blended in, kept my ear to the ground, and I heard the same name mentioned a couple of times. A planet."

"Where?"

Bellamy pulls a lever on the control deck in front of him, and the stars blur into streaking, bright lines before Abby's eyes.

"Rishi."


	3. Chapter 3

Rishi is hot. But not in the way that stale, recycled air and manufactured environments make Coruscant hot. The galaxy's central planet had been Abby's home for the longest time, since just after Clarke had been born and Jake had been offered a position in the senate.

"Why me and not you, I'll never understand." Jake had said, even though Abby had told him time and time again that she could do the most good by remaining in medicine, wherever she practised it. Jake and his idealistic mind, his strong morals, and his refusal to give up on a righteous cause were what the senate needed, she'd maintained.

Abby wishes she'd never convinced him to accept. She wishes a lot of things.

The heat on Rishi is due to its tropical climate, the nearest sun beating down, sometimes mercilessly, overhead, but it's rivers and lakes keep everything lush; Abby had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by so much _green_. The sun cannot pierce through the cloud of atmospheric pollution on Coruscant, only the highest skyscrapers - and therefore the wealthiest, most powerful citizens - break free from the oppressive, often noxious air of the never-ending sprawl of the cityscape.

On Rishi, Abby can breathe. Well, she can when she's not busy worrying and looking over her shoulder at the imaginary spectre of the Empire. Bellamy had made the mistake of telling her to relax yesterday, which only served to make her annoyed as well as stressed.

"There's no government here," He'd told her, "It's never been under the Republic's thumb, it's more like... an unspoken agreement of everyone here that's keeping the peace. It's a smuggler's haven."

"Which makes it an obvious refuge for people fleeing the Empire!" Abby had argued, before implying that Bellamy must have had tradings of dubious legality to be so knowledgeable about the planet's system of law. Or lawlessness. He'd shrugged unapologetically,

"I take whatever jobs I can get." She'd raised her eyebrows, unimpressed, and he'd rolled his eyes, "Relax, Abby, it's not like I'm out here transporting drugs or slaves." He'd paused, "Unless you count medicine. The outer rim isn't like your fancy hospital on Coruscant."

The dig had settled under her skin, and now Abby thinks that if they have to make the best of it, hiding for the rest of their lives, perhaps her skills can be of use out here and she can finally help people again. Far too often her place on the hospital board had meant too much of her time was wrapped up in bureaucracy rather than treating patients and she'd been unhappy.

Presumably they'd need a way of earning money at some point, too.

Today, Abby rises with the dawn. They've only been here a couple of days, but already she's grown used to the subtle change in temperature as the sun starts to heat up the metal hull of _The Iliad_. Even though she's at a loose end at the moment as to how she can occupy her time - she spends most of it walking, taking in her natural surroundings - it will soon be too hot for her to stay in bed any longer. She's surprised to find the entrance hatch already lowered, and then finds herself somewhat breathless at the sight of Marcus standing shirtless before her. He has his back to her, his hands clasped loosely behind him, his posture straight and disciplined yet relaxed at the same time. He's meditating, she realises, greeting the sun as it peeks over the horizon, streaking the lightening sky with orange and pink.

She doesn't want to intrude, but for a moment she is hypnotised by the subtle strength apparent in his back and shoulders, the graceful arch of his spine, and the soft, thick chestnut waves of his hair falling free around his neck. This is nothing like the last time he was bared to her like this, injured and unconscious; now he is recovering steadily, both physically and emotionally, and he is every inch the Jedi master he is keeping hidden from the rest of the world. She can feel his focused calm and his serenity, but underneath lies the capability of great power.

"You could join me, if you like." Marcus' amused voice startles her and embarrassment flushes through her at being caught openly ogling him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"You're not disturbing me," He doesn't move, doesn't turn to look at her, and when Abby's feet draw her towards him - always towards him - seemingly of their own accord, she sees that his eyes remain closed. "Your presence is helpful, actually. Like something was missing before, but now everything is as it should be."

"Nothing is as it should be." Abby can't help but mutter, and Marcus turns his head at that, opening his eyes and looking down at her, somehow sad and hopeful all at once.

"The Force will restore balance again," He says gently, and Abby almost envies him his unshakable belief, his view of the bigger picture; she shakes her head rather than ask him to show her. "I know you're still skeptical."

"Am I blocking the Force with my negative vibes?" She asks sardonically.

His breath of laughter and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes cause affection to bloom in her chest, "Of course not. But you knew that."

A small smile still graces his lips as he turns and gazes out at the waking world for a moment, and Abby follows his cue. She marvels at the quiet; they are parked far enough outside the city limits of Raider's Cove - barely constituting a "city" in comparison to Coruscant, but the capital of Rishi nonetheless - that the sounds of civilisation do not reach them. There is only the quiet rushing of a nearby waterfall, the occasional background chitter of small, harmless wildlife, and Marcus breathing in the morning air.

"You know in places like this, where civilisation and industry haven't yet paved over the landscape... this is where it's easiest to understand the nature of the Force." His voice, too, has a low, soft lilt to it that blends into their surroundings, as though he is simply an extension of the environment.

He moves then, jarring her a little having been so still before, and comes to stand behind her. He doesn't touch her, but he hovers close enough for her to be acutely aware of the bulk of his body, the heat radiating off his bare skin. Her own body feels as though it's tingling, a low electrical current racing beneath her skin. She imagines he would make her feel this way even if they weren't so finely attuned to one another. His breath is warm when he murmurs into her ear and she can't help the shiver that runs through her.

"Humour me for a moment and close your eyes. Just breathe and listen to my voice." She fights the urge to roll her eyes and does as he asks instead, feeling faintly ridiculous. "Try and clear your mind. Don't think about all the things that are troubling you. Don't think about the future or the past. Just be in this moment and listen to what your senses are telling you. What do you feel?"

Abby sighs; she isn't sure what he expects from her. "Stupid."

He is undeterred, ever patient and encouraging, "Come on. Really, what do you feel?"

Abby tries to resolve herself, latches on to the one thing she has been sure of since she opened herself up to all of this; the only thing that keeps her centred:

"I feel you." Like a warm balm, comforting and intrinsic to her.

"Of course. Now, reach out a little further, what else?"

She follows the feeling, expands it, examines the ways in which the Force ebbs and flows with his presence and allows her instincts to guide her, easily, in the end, to her daughter.

"I feel... Clarke." Bright and golden and beloved in her mind and her heart, "She's still asleep." Searching a little further, she feels herself frown, "Bellamy isn't here."

"Good," Marcus praises, "He slipped off to town early again. You're still being guided by your emotions, though. I want to you reach out beyond yourself, beyond what's personal to you. What else is there?"

"I don't..." Abby can feel herself beginning to get frustrated, but consciously forces it down.

"That's it," Marcus whispers in response.

_In places like this_ , he'd said, so Abby focuses on the living, breathing world around her, and whether Marcus helped her through their Force-bond or not, it's suddenly as though the floodgates have opened, and, in a rush of sensation, everything lights up, like neurones firing, all connected together.

" _Oh_..." She gasps, and Marcus radiates with quiet pride behind her.

She can feel every blade of grass; her own feet feel like the roots of the trees around them, absorbing energy from the earth and sending it back out into the universe. The air and the sun and stardust envelope her and it's like she's suspended and part of a single, giant, living organism. She feels huge and tiny at the same time, a part of the Force as all things are, but insignificant in its ancient vastness.

Marcus is talking again, soothing, teaching:

"The Force isn't good or evil. It's not a weapon or a tool for us to bend to our will. It's energy. It's in everything. It's life and death and balance, and it's flowing through you like a stream, Abby. Don't try and hold on to it, just... be in the stream for now."

She pictures it, the visual in her mind helped along by the distant sound of the waterfall, and tries to do as he says. She finds if she lets everything go almost as soon as she feels it, lets it wash down the stream, the sensory overload that was threatening wanes.

"You said that you're afraid you can't control it or yourself, but it's not about controlling it." Marcus continues, "It's about relinquishing control, which, no, isn't the same as _losing_ control. We are vessels and the Force works through us."

She feels a sense of disquiet at that, and asks: "So then... I have no agency of my own?"

"Of course you do."

"But -"

"You are one with the Force and the Force is with you." She's heard Marcus, and other Jedi, say this before, and it never really made sense to her, but now, somehow, with everything she is feeling in this moment, it does. It suggests to her that, if she lets it, the Force will guide her way and help her make the right choices, but the choices will remain her own.

"Okay." She breathes deeply again; she could never have truly understood his words without experiencing this for herself. She's not mocking now. It's clear to her that she's becoming part of something much bigger than herself, something that has the potential to make her feel less alone and at peace.

"You're not alone," Marcus says into her hair, his beard brushing the rim of her ear, replying once more to her unspoken thought, and finally he touches her. All he does is rest his hands lightly on her shoulders, bare in the tank top she's wearing, but it's like a live wire against her skin, a spark of pure communion: love and understanding and sanctuary and _oh_...

Pleasure. Strong, undeniable and _mutual_.

Marcus' quick intake of breath has her turning in his arms and he looks down at her with wide, startled eyes. She can't zero in on his thoughts as specifically as he can hers, instead she feels a maelstrom of his conflicting emotions; desire and discipline, the Jedi way, at war within him. He doesn't step away from her though, or break contact.

"I..." She's quite sure she's never heard him stutter before, "Abby, I - I've never -"

"It's okay," She is the one to soothe him now, placing a hesitant hand on his bare chest, feeling his sun-warmed skin and the quickening thump of his heart. In her mind's eye she sees the cord of their bond wrapped around it, just as it feels in her own chest. "You're not alone," She echoes, hoping he understands.

He is experiencing something new just as she is, and they will guide each other through whatever challenges lie ahead.

He takes a deep breath that expands his chest under her hand, as though steeling himself. Abby feels calm, though; the world is luminous and beautiful with the ebb and flow of the Force, and at it's centre, for her, is Marcus. It's like he's her own personal sun.

"Abby..." He begins, but then suddenly they both tense as one, sensing the intruders in their midst well before they come into view.

"Uhh, hey?" says Bellamy, appearing out of the bush and caught in the intensity of their combined stares, "What's... going on?"

There's no denying that he's caught them in the middle of _something_ , what with Marcus being half dressed and the two of them stood so close, clearly lost in each other, but neither Abby nor Marcus can be distracted by embarrassment when they can both feel that Bellamy is not alone.

"Who else is with you, Bellamy?" Marcus sounds on edge as he automatically steps in front of Abby, shielding her from any potential threat.

Bellamy holds up a placating hand, a gesture that says _give me a moment to explain_ , but before he can open his mouth another voice cuts through the clearing.

"Holy crap, are you kidding me?"

Bellamy's eyes close briefly in what looks like resignation as a young woman emerges behind him, both hands up but showing no signs of fear or nervousness. In fact, her face - beautiful, with big, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and flawless olive-toned skin - gives away excitement more than anything. Long, dark hair has been pulled back into a ponytail that hangs in glossy waves down her back, swaying a little as she walks slowly towards them. She's wearing a reddish flight suit that has seen better days, the top half peeled down and tied around her middle - a concession to the heat, Abby thinks likely - revealing a faded grey tank top beneath. Around her waist she wears a utility belt and a blaster in its holster.

As she draws level with Bellamy he sighs, "I told you to wait."

"They knew I was there," She counters, "And honestly there's only one way they could have known that." Panic sends Abby's heart fluttering in her chest, and she both feels and sees Marcus tense. But Bellamy has brought this girl here for a reason, and she knows he wouldn't do so lightly. "If I don't want to be seen or heard," The girl continues, "I won't be. Flying or otherwise." Her cocky grin rivals anything Abby has seen on Bellamy's face. "They could sense I was there, which means they're Jedi." The grin fades, "Maybe the _last_ Jedi in the galaxy... Although," She eyes Marcus up and down, "I haven't met many Jedi, but they all wore a lot more clothes. Not that I'm complaining."

Despite herself, an amused smile tugs at Abby's lips; she admires this girl's nerve.

"Who are you?" Marcus asks, and his voice is calm, open to listen to an explanation, but Abby can hear the defensive undercurrent, "I hope Bellamy has a good reason for bringing you here. For trusting you."

"I still wasn't sure if I could trust _him_ ," The girl says, with a glance at Bellamy's affronted look and an unapologetic shrug, "Or you. But when I realised who - _what_ you were, I figured I had the upper hand, here."

Abby feels a pulse of kinetic energy at the same time as Marcus throws his hand out, open, waiting, and from somewhere within the ship his lightsaber flies into his grasp. He does not ignite it, but it's enough to startle the girl into complete seriousness.

"Whoa, whoa, okay! Bad choice of words!" She holds up her hands again, though Abby saw one of them twitch towards her blaster, at first. Either she decided it wouldn't help her cause, or she knew there was no way she could win against a Jedi knight: smart girl. "My name is Raven Reyes, and I'm part of a resistance movement against the Empire."


End file.
